Birth of Doomsday
by ZelotOneShotter
Summary: Nothing is off limits when one is researching the saving of the life of one's only son, damn the consequences, even those that you didn't even know existed, and if you manage to break the natural law in the process well... it's ok if it's in the name of motherly love, right?
1. Chapter 1

AN: Something that was swimming around in my head one day after watching something, a cookie to those that guess what it was (it won't be that hard if you squint xD).

* * *

At the birthplace of the magical community of the world, when Divination was far more sort after and the practice far more believed in, a trusted seer of the time gave a premonition that would start a revolution, the beginning of the belief that magical children born of non magical families were to be feared and treated with great caution, which would evolve into hatred and outright contempt by a vast percentage of the magical populous.

"Doomsday will arrive on the death of the new blood of the first month, they will bring upon the world the end of all things, that which cannot die."

Up until then new magicals, from that moment onward called muggle born, were treated fairly well but the trusted words of the seer saw that the distrust and discrimination of new magicals born from muggles explode across the world.

And as with all things when pitted against time, the foretelling of Doomsday was forgotten, though the effects of the foretelling of the End of All Things would remain.

o.o

Lily had done little else the whole time that James, Harry and herself had been in hiding other than research; it was one of the few things she was truly gifted in and if things had worked out differently, would have become a top level unspeakable, as events played out that would never happen and Lily would miss a few fundamental teachings when researching fields of magic not widely known.

Lily and James had defied Lord Voldemort 3 times, and each time Lily had learnt something, primarily that the Dark Lord preferred the quickest way to kill his enemies with the always successful Killing Curse, so with this knowledge Lily spent weeks researching the mechanics of the spell to find a means to defeat it, or subvert it if she couldn't do the first.

Lily had deduced, after many a time going over any and all information she could get her hands on, at quite a high cost, that the Avada Kedavra actually severed the link that held the soul to the body, it was soul magic in the most barbaric form possible.

With this information Lily had something to work with, a basis to centre her ritual on.

On the eve of 31st October Lily had ironed out her plan.

Irrespective of what had been told to James and herself from Dumbledore about the supposed prophecy that connected the Dark Lord Voldemort to her son, Lily had created her soul ritual, markings covering the whole of the nursery that Harry was currently residing in, not caring about the consequences of what was to happen afterwards.

When Lord Voldemort found them, as Lily knew he inevitably would, and killed both James and herself, she would use both hers and her husband's death to power the ritual that would protect her son's soul from the killing curse.

Lily was just finishing her final touches on her ritual when she heard James' frantic shout.

"LILY IT'S HIM! HE'S HERE! TAKE HARRY AND RUN!" she heard from downstairs.

Her heart hammering in her chest, Lily darted to her son, whom was eyeing her sceptically, when the door to the room blew to pieces, wooden shards flying in every direction.

The Dark Lord stepped through the doorframe slowly, eyeing the room's occupants.

"Step aside." Lily couldn't believe her ears, he wasn't going to kill her? "Step aside now, I want the boy."

"No!" not her baby, not her Harry. Lily had to get him to kill her to fulfil her rituals requirements. "Not my son, take me instead, kill me!"

"Very well then, Avada Kedavra!"

It was strange, Voldemort thought, that Lily Potter died with a smile on her face, like he had done exactly what she wanted him to.

No matter, she was dead, time to kill the boy and fulfil this prophecy.

"How you could ever become my equal…" he said with great amusement before lovingly uttering the words for the killing curse.

The green spell connected with the boy, whom had started crying the moment his mom had died, and dropped to the matress of his cot, dead.

Voldemort smiled cruelly at his actions for all of 7 seconds, taking in the satisfaction of what he'd done, before he felt something…shift.

The boy's body twitched.

"What the…"

The room lit up like a Christmas tree as green light shone brightly out the window of Harry's room, Voldemort not getting a second to comprehend what was happening before his body disintegrated, his spirit fleeing an instant later, missing the fragment, created from Lily Potter's death at his hands, that settled into a fresh jagged cut on the boys forehead.

o.o

After being collected by Hagrid from a near rabid Sirius Black, Harry fell asleep within the half giants coat as they passed over Bristol on Sirius Black's flying motorbike that Hagrid had procured.

Harry died of suffocation, the weight of the half giant's massive coat too much for the toddler's small frame to cope with and Harry's lungs collapsed as his ribcage gave way. Unknown to Hagrid, with air ripping through his ears and goggles protecting his eyes from wind shear, the massive man didn't see the tiny frame, in proportion to himself, flash green, and the small body of Harry James Potter started breathing again, much stronger than before.

o.o

Dumbledore, McGonagall and Hagrid had left Harry on the doorstep of the Dursley's residence of Number 4 Privet Drive 2 hours ago, and it was freezing. Harry Potter's infant body, never mind the blanket he was wrapped in with letter resting on top, couldn't handle the frigid temperature and went into hypothermia, dying 15 minutes after the fact, only taking that long due to Harry's internal magic trying to fight the effects it was being afflicted with.

The doorstep of Number 4 Privet Drive lit up the street for but an instant in a flash of green, the soul of the Potter family scion returning to its host as if it never left, nor would it ever again from hypothermic reasons.

o.o

The morning of November 1st, when Vernon Dursley opened the door to retrieve the morning paper he very nearly kicked the squirming frame of Harry Potter across the road but stopped himself a hairs breath from going through with it when he noticed a neighbour doing the same as him across the road with their own newspaper. With a sneer that would soon earn a permanent place on the bulging mans' face, the man bent down and picked up the baby and the envelope, taking the newsletter in the other hand and closed the door.

The World would never be the same again.

* * *

AN: So, another egg into the fry pan, lets see what becomes of this.

Let me make one thing clear, however, read this for your enjoyment, comment if you want, but I write all of my fics for my own enjoyment so i don't mind too much if no one reviews but reviews do help with my writing process.

As with all my fics, if i like the idea i'll write the story, so if you have a problem with anything I write, that's your problem not mine, so if you flame me thats on you s i don't really care.


	2. Chapter 2

The morning of November 1st, Vernon Dursley waddled down the stairs in a jolly mood, his life was perfect, he had an excellent job, a (to him) beautiful wife and a (again, to him) handsome boy for a son. All of this changed when he opened the door to see a baby wrapped up in a blanket, envelope attached to it, trying to wrangle out of the tight confines.

A bit confused at first Vernon bent down to look the baby over.

'What the devil is going on here, does my house _look_ like a church?' he thought before he caught the eye of the baby in question.

Green eyes.

Vernon flinched back a step.

Comprehension dawned on him.

"PET!" he bellowed, taking the letter and baby inside, the sound of a woman scrambling to get to her husband filled the second floor as a loud wail from another baby erupted.

"Vernon! You woke Dudder's up!" Petunia Dursley hissed moments later, coming down the stairs with a balling infant in her arms. Then the thinly built woman caught sight of what was in her husband's arms.

"Who…is that?" she asked, horrified at the meaning of another baby in her husband's arms, where did this one come from.

'Was this another baby from someone that Vernon was having an affair with?' her mind started racing with all kinds of scenarios before Vernon handed her the envelope into her free hand, carefully taking Dudley from her so she had the freedom to open and read the contents freely.

Vernon waited patiently for his wife to finish reading, who was by the end of reading the letter, incensed.

"Those…freaks!" she spat.

"Pet…?" He asked, a little nervous, his wife was rarely this angry.

"Put that _boy_ down, Vernon!" she demanded. "That's my freak of a sister's son!"

Vernon dropped the bundled up baby boy like a hot potato, who landed with a thud on his back and started crying. This in turn started to make Dudley squirm in Vernon's other arm, the noise of Harry's crying making him upset. Vernon grunted as he repositioned Dudley, making a decision on the crying infant on the floor.

"Put the freak under the stairs." he decided, giving up on settling his own son and handing Dudley back to Petunia before picking up the infant Potter and roughly depositing him in the cupboard under the stairs, where he would eventually take up residence within, with deadbolt locks added on as the years went by.

Little would the Dursley's realize, that their future treatment of their nephew would spell disaster for everyone.

o.o

Over the years of his young life Harry had been exposed to a lot of methods that should have killed him, but found himself strangely unharmed after a brief intense bout of pain, he'd been bitten by many different spiders that scuttled across the gardens he worked on, a few breeds of snake and their venoms that Harry had come across as he was locked outside in the shed for doing something 'freakish', he'd even broken his neck when Dudley had pushed him off the high slide at the nearby park.

As with every other method that was used for Harry to meet the reaper, after it happened the first time, that method wouldn't work again.

This didn't mean that Harry couldn't be hurt, but the method that would have killed him would barely be felt, as Harry found out when he was bitten by a snake he recognized a second time and barely felt a tickle as the reptile's fangs sank into his flesh.

By the age of 10 Harry had attained a pain tolerance that was mind breaking to others, and after being chased after school and dying from blunt force trauma via a bashing from Dudley's hooligan buddies and Dudley himself, Harry barely felt any physical pain whatsoever anymore.

This in turn, helped Harry shrug off the many threats made from his Aunt and Uncle about showing up their son in school; especially after breathing through a strangulation attempt from Vernon's belt as if there was no strap of leather trying to constrict his windpipe.

That had let to them depriving him of essential food and water, Harry's body shutting down after a week and then finally dying, to be revived incapable of being starved of essential nutrients or any crucial sustenance that would be necessary to maintain a working, liveable body.

The day after Harry revived from being starved to death, Harry emerged from his cupboard, an eerie calm about him he hadn't had before; strangely enough the slow, snail's pace of dying from hunger and dehydration had awakened a state of mind within Harry's subconscious, even if Harry himself was not aware of it yet.

Simply put Harry couldn't get scared or anything remotely close to the feeling of fright.

"It's taken me ten years to reach this point…but thanks to you two, Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and even Dudley to a degree, I can't die. Isn't that cool?" Harry said with what could have been a happy smile if his eyes weren't flaring with emerald light.

"Freak!" Petunia screamed before lunging at Harry with a knife, a broad blade with a tapered point, seven inches long, poised to stab at Harry. Harry for his part didn't even flinch as the steel sank into his flesh over and over, the ratty garments he was wearing quickly dying to a crimson red as blood oozed from the gashes Petunia was inflicting.

"Why won't you die!?"

"Well, if I had to guess," Harry started, ignoring the bladed steel slashing at his baggy clothed body. "I would say it was _magic_ , but you've always said there's no such thing as _magic_ , quite a few times too; so I have to wonder if you're telling the truth." Harry then took hold of Petunia's wrist and seized the knife from her struggling hand.

"Allow me to show you." He said before rolling up a sleeve of his ruined top and slashed his wrist, then did the same to his neck, slitting it from ear to ear.

Then, just to freak them out even more, he reversed gripped the knife and plunged the large kitchen utensil into his chest where his heart was located.

"You're a monster!" Petunia decried. "I knew you were a monster the moment my freak sister said she was pregnant with you!"

"I am what I am because of you, dear aunt. Now since we've established that killing me is now impossible, let's get to the heart of all this." Harry giggled madly. "Get to the heart, get it? Because I stabbed myself in the heart?" shock horror as plastered across Vernon and Petunia's face's.

"Bah, you're no fun. So I've come the conclusion you've been lying to me about a lot of things, I want the truth now." Harry stated. This seemed to snap Vernon out of his horror induced stupor.

"So what if we can't kill you, you freak! You can't do anything to us before we beat the stuffing out of you." He spat, his face quickly colouring.

"Yes, well that would be true, except that your idiot of a son and his friends beat me to death one day on the way home from school not that they knew it then but well you can't really life through too many blows to the ground, something about me showing him up in class, not that that was really very hard to do, a brick is smarter than him I swear. But as I was saying, you can try beat me up, but I've already died like that, so that won't work, and as you can see," Harry pulled he knife out of his heart. "I am the one with a weapon, and you aren't; thank you for that by the way Aunt Petunia, it was such a _thoughtful_ gift. So about the truth you were about to tell me…" Harry said, one of his fingertips idly playing with the tip of the kitchen knife covered in blood.

* * *

AN: Not nearly what i had in mind, but as a lot of you might know, it can be very hard to write out what you want to express a lot of the time.

if you have any suggestions on how Harry could possibly die that doesn't involve those mentioned above, tell me and i'll see that it gets added somehow.

Note that doubling up on the same method won't count.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: you know what happens when you enjoy a story idea, you just keep going and going? I'm going through that right now.

Though i should probably switch it up soon for one of my other stories soon, don't want people to think i abandoned them or anything.

* * *

Harry would have been surprised at his uncle Vernon's reaction to his demands of telling him the truth, but he couldn't be surprised anymore, but as Vernon bolted from his seated position a macabre smile spread on his face, said smile growing bigger as the fat man managed to take hold of the wrist with the hand holding the knife in it, and with a grip as vice like as the 'could have been' sumo could manage, dragged Harry to the electrical outlet.

"You say you can't die, freak, try this then." Without pause Vernon rammed the blade into the electrical socket, instantly making Harry seize up as volts of electricity coursed through his veins, cooking him alive.

This happened within the span of a few seconds, for all of which Petunia was watching in absolute horror as she noted the blood running from Harry's wounds were steaming from extreme heat.

For his part, Vernon was monumentally pleased with himself at his actions, having let go of Harry and instant before the knife had dove into the electrical socket. As Harry's body sizzled in place Vernon was grinning like a manic man.

The lights throughout the house shorted as the power gave out for the whole house and the lights went out

Then the sizzling and steaming of Harry's body stopped.

And Harry's body dropped to the ground, dead.

Vernon couldn't help himself and laughed.

He'd done it, he'd killed the freak!

Then the room hit up with a green flash.

"Wow, what a shocker that was, get it, because you just electrocuted me to death." Harry said, unharmed sans his ruined clothes. "Oh, and I'll be taking this, you might try to use it on me in some weird way to kill me, and that'd boring after a while…not to mention messy and pointless." Harry eyed the blood splatter all around the room. "So, as I was saying, you will tell me the truth of all the lies you've ever told me, the main ones like what happened to my parents and why I'm here living with you meatbags."

"And if we don't, freak?" retorted Vernon with very fake bravado, now very much afraid after actually witnessing his nephew come back to life right in front of his eyes. Petunia was even worse off than Vernon, whereas Vernon had the stomach to do something like that when pushed, Petunia was all talk and no bite…well maybe a scratch or smack here and there but nothing as brazen as what Vernon had just done.

"I may not be able to stay dead, but I can assure you that Dudley sure as hell will if I did anything to him with this." Harry said taking hold of the knife in the power point and wrenching it free.

"Huh that's different." The near eleven year old quipped as he took a second look at the cutting utensil he'd claimed for himself.

It had changed shape.

The blade was shaped like a lightning bolt now.

"So, yet again going back to what I said before, tell me what I want to know or else I'll use this lil Shocker on your darling pig of a son, who should be stampeding in here any second now that the power's gone out, nice one by the way fat man."

At the notion of Harry doing anything remotely harmful to her only son, Petunia's eye widened in terror again, this time for a different reason other than what she'd just watched happen.

"NO! Not my Dudley! I'll talk, I'll tell you everything you want to know, just don't hurt my baby!" she wailed desperately.

"We'll see, if I don't like what I hear, well…" Harry left his sentence hang, Petunia shaking her head frantically her begging evolving to the point she was bowing at Harry's feet.

Just as Dudley came through the kitchen door.

"Dad the power's gone out and- hey why is mom bowing to the freak?" Dudley asked, his eyes telling a story he didn't understand.

"Sit down and shut up Dudley, your dear sweet mummy is about to tell us a story." There as a brief pause.

"Oh and Petunia, I wouldn't use the 'f word' in any of the story if I were you." Harry said pointing his knife towards a dumbstruck Dudley, who was just sitting down next to his dad, which to Dudley's confusion was dead quiet.

Petunia gulped audibly at Harry's insinuation before taking a shaky breathe.

o.o

After finishing her story about her and her sister Lily, about the creepy boy Severus that lived near them, about her sister meeting Harry's father and the war with Voldemort (what little she knew of it at any rate), about Hogwarts, Dumbledore and the letter that was left with Harry the night his parents were killed and finally how and why Harry ended up with Petunia.

The shrew woman had to catcher herself many times during the retelling from using the _f word_.

There was a tense silence as Petunia finished, Vernon and Petunia on the edge of their seat waiting for Harry's reaction.

"You wouldn't have told my any of this if I didn't hold your slob of a son's life as a bargaining chip, and this explains a lot about you, you jealous bitch." None of the Dursley's present could read Harry's expression, which didn't bode well.

"Don't talk about my mum like that, you freak!" Dudley cried out in defence of his mom, expecting to hear his dad join in on the verbal thrashing he was about to unleash.

To Dudley's surprise his dad stayed mute.

To Dudley's further surprise his mom covered his mouth with her hand before he could get another word out, only managing a muffled few words.

"Tell me, dear duddy diddums," Harry started up. "Do you notice anything strange around the room, or are you really that dumb not to see the **blood splattered all over the room**?"

Dudley's eyes surveyed the part of the kitchen in front of him, finally taking in the copious amount of blood painted throughout the surface areas of the kitchen. Then the pudgy boy's eyes landed back on Harry, taking in the blood stained rags that he was wearing, blood soaked and dripping.

"Your dad just killed me, jammed this," he held up his knife for Dudley to get a good look at. "Into the electrical socket with me holding it. I'll spell it out for you just in case you're still slugging behind, ha, spell it out, I can't die." Harry cackled at his pun while Dudley's eyes bugged wide open.

"Remember that day that we were coming back from school and you and your buddies decided it would be fun to play Harry the Punching bag? You actually beat me so bad, hit me so hard in the head I actually died. Now thanks to you, I don't feel anything from punches, kicks or stabs," Harry demonstrated by plunging his knife into his heart again, right in front of Dudley's eyes. The fat boy actually threw up at the sight making Harry laugh at the sight.

"Oh the irony, Dudley Dursley the playground terror, who revels in beating other kids up, pukes at the sight of a knife in a chest of the one person he loved to beat up the most."

"Please stop Harry, stop this!" Petunia finally managed to beg. Electricity surged around Harry's knife as his green eyes blazed with power.

"Why should I? After everything you and your family have done to me, you want me to stop just as you get what you deserve. Sorry Aunt Petunia, not going to happen, you should have thought of that a long time before now." Harry raised his knife, making the Dursley's recoil, before he paused and lowered it again.

"I'll come and go as I please, when my Hogwarts letter comes and I leave, prey you never see me again. And if, IF I find out anything else that you haven't told me from someone else, you'll wish I'd have just killed you now. Now, I need new clothes so one of you," Harry gestured to Petunia and Vernon. "Is taking me to the shops, I don't care who." Harry stated before moving to the door, pausing at the frame to give the kitchen a once over.

"You'll want to clean up all the blood, maybe fix the power too while you're at it." Harry said with a snicker before leaving for the upstairs bathroom.

Retribution was _sweet_.

* * *

AN: That was fun to writ, i must say, i hope you enjoyed that as much as i did.

I'm curious to know if any of you have suggestions for the name of Harry's knife, and your theories about it.

As you might have guessed, that's going to be an important tool for Harry now.

chances are I might just use one, you never know.


	4. Chapter 4

AN: believe it or not, i had trouble deciding on which way to write this out, as i don't really plan before i write it can be a little tricky.

* * *

Something had changed, Harry felt, when he returned from the shower and he wasn't entirely sure it as for his betterment. His blood splattered everywhere around the room had been cleaned to a degree but Harry spied his dear aunt holding still and not cleaning like he had thought she'd be.

Vernon too, Harry noticed, was not as visibly cowed as he had been before Harry's shower. In fact the bulbous man had a look on his face as if an epiphany had come to him.

The third member of the Dursley family was curiously absent but Harry paid that detail little mind, a fact that Harry would soon regret discarding.

"Why aren't you still cleaning?" Harry asked bluntly. Petunia stilled, shooting a glance at Vernon for the briefest moment. "Don't look at him, I asked _you_ , Petunia. Why aren't you still cleaning?"

To Harry's surprise, when Harry took hold of his jagged blade in his hands to press them for the answer to his question Vernon's eye's gleamed with triumph, the next thing Harry knew he was being held in a limb lock from behind, his cousin holding him so tightly that his arm that held his knife made an audible crack as Dudley snapped it.

With a cry of pain Harry dropped his weapon, it wasn't a tremendous amount of pain, unlike the electrocution, but it stung like hell.

While wincing from the pain of his broken bone Harry was still able to see, and hear, the quick movements from his uncle, who dashed towards him and took hold of Harry's knife that lay discarded on the floor.

"You're not so tough without this, are you freak?" Vernon taunted, before placing it on the table next to him out of Harry's reach. Then he advanced on Harry, taking hold of Harry's unbroken arm.

"Dudley," the fat man called. "Open the freaks cupboard." The mini Vernon let go of Harry's broken limb and did as he was told, opening the cupboard wide for his dad.

With a beefy grunt of exertion, Vernon broke the arm he was holding onto and threw Harry into the cupboard.

"You might not be able to _stay_ dead Freak, but you can't do anything in there without your little knife to get you out. And just to make sure…" with a feral smile on his face Vernon advanced on the prone form of Harry in the cupboard and stomped on Harry's lower limbs numerous times in different spots, breaking multiple bones in Harry's feet, ankles and knees.

Minutes later, when Vernon was satisfied that he had done enough damage he stood up, about to slam the cupboard shut, when Harry spoke up.

"You haven't thought this through well enough, have you Vernon? What are you going to do about the smell if I can't use the toilet?" Vernon's constipated look on his face as this fact registered in his mind sent Harry into gales of laughter. In retaliation, Vernon broke Harry's jaw and slammed the cupboard closed.

Returning to his wife, she had a disgusted look on her face, having overheard what Harry had said to Vernon.

"The Freak is right Vernon, what are we going to do about the smell?"

"I'm sure we'll think of something Pet. Now I'm going to dispose of this _thing_." Vernon said gesturing to Harry's knife. "Dudley, help your mother clean up this mess!" he shouted before stomping over to the draw with t-towels, wrapping the knife in several rolls of t-towels before stomping out the front door to his car with the rolled up knife with him.

He was going to chuck it in the river, or bury it somewhere.

o.o

A week had passed since then and the house had been efficiently cleaned of all traces of Harry's blood, some of it being very hard to clean up with it being on the roof of the kitchen, to the great ire of Petunia. Vernon had also gone to a hardware store and purchased various deadbolt locks and fastened them to the cupboard under the stairs and did everything he could think of to truly seal that cupboard up for good.

'The freak might not be able to die,' Vernon reasoned. 'But to live forever nowhere outside of there won't be a life worth living.'

Inside the cupboard, in the darkness, Harry had slowly been healing, his magic mending his many broken bones. With no food or water to replenish him however, it was taking a lot longer than it would normally take to fix everything that had been inflicted on him.

'I kind of wish I hadn't died from starvation of dehydration yet…' mentally groaned Harry as he tried his best to channel his magic to his injuries.

500 or so years ago this particular practice of learning to control ones magic without a focus, i.e. a wand, had been discontinued due to the high risk of magic overload which would leave the practitioner dead as a doornail, as the magic the user tried to channel became unstable and exploded killing the wizard or witch.

When this finally happened to Harry however, after the usual green flash of revival and no longer able to suffer magical backlash from magical overload Harry found that his magic sang when he tried to channel it.

So he began to practice, with no more backlash to worry about Harry was free to experiment with his magic to his heart's content. His first bit of magic to master was vanishing, he had a tonne of shit and piss to get rid of and it _reeked_.

Harry had actually lost track of how long he's been locked in the cupboard and actually had to give props to his uncle for concocting this 'lock Harry in the cupboard forever' idea, there _was_ a way to deal with immortal beings after all.

Harry couldn't have told anyone how long it had taken him to learn to vanish his own excrement, because he honestly didn't know, with nothing but black to stare at constantly and the only thing reminding him of where he was exactly being the sounds of heavy people going up and down the stairs he had lost all track of time.

Then one day sometime later on, Harry woke up, smelling horrible from a build-up of body odour and realised, smacking himself in the face for not thinking of this earlier, that he could use magic to both get rid of his bad body stink and tell him what time and date it was.

So Harry spent an unknown amount of time learning these magical tricks wandlessly, actually quite, not happy exactly, but content with his current circumstance.

o.o

For Vernon and Petunia, life had been a little tricky at first after they had locked the Freak in the cupboard and locked it securely so _it_ couldn't get out. They had spun an exorbitant tale about where _it_ was to those that knew of _its_ existence under their roof but after they managed to swindle the school they had been sending it to about its whereabouts, things had smoothed out pretty well.

Sure they didn't have a servant on call to do their every whim but Petunia and Vernon thought it was a small price to pay to be free from the terror of being under the beck and call of _it_ and _its_ freakishness.

And for a time they had even forgotten that they even had a freak locked up at all, with no noise or smell coming from the stairs, until Dudley came inside with the mail, and the adult Dursley's saw a heavy set envelope on the table with the rest of the daily mail.

Harry J Potter

The Cupboard Under the Stairs

Little Whinging

Surrey

"Those freaks are _watching_ us!" shrieked Petunia, the letter bringing back to the forefront of their minds that they had _it_ living under their roof. "They know where _it_ is!"

Thus the flaw in Vernon's plan of locking Harry away in his cupboard finally revealed itself, they couldn't let it out or it would unleash unholy fire upon them, they couldn't move house because everything they had and knew (school, work, reputation) was in this area and they couldn't afford to move even if they wanted to; in locking Harry Potter away in the Cupboard under the stairs they had grounded themselves in eventual failure.

"Those _people_ will come here looking if they don't get an answer for _that_." Petunia's voice trembled looking at the letter sitting ominously on the table in front of them.

"What are we going to do?" Petunia asked, distraught.

"I know what you can do." A voice echoed around them, making all 3 Dursley's blood freeze. "You can stand there and let me kill you." The covered up area around the cupboard under the stairs warped, Harry Potter emerging with ratty clothing and unruly shoulder length black hair.

"B-but how?"

"Magic." Harry answered, his hands sparking with power as he approached the Dursley family. "Something that you have given me lots of time to practice using... allow me to **demonstrate**."

"Please…have mercy!" Wailed Petunia, terrified of the power sparking from Harry's hand.

"I'm well passed mercy."

The house lit up, white light so strong it blinded those that looked towards it from the windows of Number 4 Privet Drive. The light, as bright as the sun, lasted for a whole minute before finally dying, revealing a family of three, two parents and one child, convulsing on the ground as if suffering an epileptic seizure.

Harry meanwhile had gone upstairs to the bathroom to wash himself, from what he got his magic to tell him, it was his birthday today, and he felt like washing away all the grime and sweat that magic simply could not vanish.

When he had finished and returned downstairs to the kitchen, where the Dursley's were still seizing, Harry picked up his letter and opened it, feeling a minute tingle of magic over the parchment as he broke the seal and read the letter's contents.

"We await your owl no later than… they don't think very far do they, these magical people, I can't send a reply by owl if I don't have one…idiots…honestly." Sparring a look at the, even now, still seizing relatives of his who now had blood running from their ears, eyes, nose and mouth.

Harry left for the Dursley parent's bedroom, there was sure to be money in there somewhere, and from the looks of this book list he was going to need it.

Returning to the kitchen after finding what he was looking for, he cast one final look to the family of three who were now twitching in steadily growing puddles of their own blood, before giving them a mock salute.

"If you do survive this, prey we never meet again or I'll make sure you won't live to see the end of the meeting." With that said and his pockets lined with stolen money and a Hogwarts letter, Harry departed 4 Privet Drive Little Whinging Surrey, for what he hoped was for the last time.

* * *

AN: Where will Harry go from here?

How will he get there?

What will he do?

Questions to be answered in a coming chapter of Birth of Doomsday.

If you have something you'd like to see happen, like a cause of death, post it in a review and i'll see what happens.

R&R


	5. Chapter 5

AN: Been a long time, but better later than never.

* * *

When Harry had left Privet Drive he hadn't really had a plan on where to go, and seeing as he had no need for food or drink he only thing he really sought for was clothes to replace the oversized blood stained rags he was still wearing.

Walking around in blood splattered clothing was assuredly no way to not draw attention to oneself after all.

With a quick magic check for the time of day, telling him it was early to mid-afternoon Harry made up his mind.

"I need to go to a shop." Harry decided as he walked, heedless of the looks of passer-by's as they saw a preteen in bloodied rags walk down the street. "I'll need new shoes too, these things are falling apart." He noted looking at the ratty trainers he was wearing had holes in various places, in the front revealing his faded socks which also had holes in them, and through the sole as well giving little to no protection to Harry's feet.

After all, anything Harry as currently wearing were previously owned and used by Dudley, so they had seen better days before Harry had been _given_ them.

Harry hated to do so, but he had to, begrudgingly, thank his aunt for telling him about Diagon Alley in her confession about magic and his parents so he did in fact have a direction in which to travel but with nothing but the money he'd stolen and the rags on his back, Harry had no way to get to said magical shopping district except to walk and with such crappy shoes it was going to be a mighty uncomfortable journey.

As Harry walked, he reviewed the other bits and pieces of his aunt's tale, specifically about Hogwarts and Dumbledore, who Harry remembered from his aunt's recount as the person ultimately responsible for placing Harry with the Dursley's in the first place.

"In a blanket on the front step, wonder if that's where I died from freezing?" Harry thought out loud, drawing several odd looks from the few strangers he passed by that were in earshot.

Eventually he stumbled upon a small shopping district and went crazy, for as much as two hundred seventy five pounds would allow a boy of his age to.

Hours spent going from shop to shop Harry was now was without any money but sported a new t-shirt, pants, shoes, socks and a new pair of underwear, he was so glad to be rid of the cast offs of his fat cousin. The last thing he purchased, which had used up all the money had acquired from the Dursley family, was a hat to cover the scar on his forehead, if he wanted to remain unnoticed, it made sense to hide telling features of oneself from onlookers.

'Now I need to get to Diagon Alley… where did _dearest Petunia_ say the entrance was again…oh right, a 'dingy old pub' at Charing Cross Road.'

Now Harry had never been educated, either by the Dursley's or the school he'd gone to, to not talk to strangers because it wasn't safe, so Harry felt no ill course by picking out a random person on the street and asking them for directions.

'Eeny… meeny…miny…moe.' Harry thought looking around him at the strangers surrounding him, deciding at last when his little chant finished.

"Excuse me miss?" Harry spoke up, walking briskly to a reasonably well dressed young woman walking ways opposite on the other side of the street.

Said woman, a dainty blonde haired lady in her late thirties in a modest red skirt and white top stopped at being addressed, watching as a small child rapidly approached her.

"Is there something I can help you with, young man?" she asked, curious.

Using anything and everything he could, he managed to get the lady to give him directions to where he needed to go without getting the police involved for being out by himself during school hours unsupervised.

"Thank you very much ma'am, you've been very helpful." With these final words Harry took off leaving a bewildered woman starring at Harry's back as h left.

'What a strange boy…'

In the late afternoon hours later at the brink of evening Harry saw a sign that he'd been looking for all afternoon as he walked down the street towards Charing Cross Road in London.

'The Leaky Cauldron…what a way to hide an entrance to a magical society…' Harry mused as he walked casually to his destination, no need to draw any attention to himself needlessly after all.

Entering the pub was like stepping back in time, everything he looked at looked decades old, from the bar to the tables and chairs.

'Are those _goblets_?' Harry nearly gaped as he watched a patron take hold of a large steaming glass and downed the contents in one swig.

"Are you all right there, lad?" the barman asked bringing Harry back to here and now. "Not lost or anything are ye?" he asked with a chuckle. Harry kept his face blank as he walked further into the pub, stopping in front of the barman.

"I'm looking to get into Diagon Alley." Harry spoke quietly, taking his Hogwarts letter out of his pants pocket and showed the barman, the letter being the only thing that had actually been his that he's taken from Privet Drive.

"Ah, a First Year are ya?" the bar man asked with a grin. "Not to worry laddie, follow me and I'll you sorted."

The barman made it a few steps from his post behind the bar before he noticed Harry was, actually, by himself with no adult in his company.

"You here by yourself laddie?" he asked. Mentally cursing the man for his question, Harry muttered quietly to the man that he was an orphan. "Ah, that explains it, no worries laddie." The barman said patting Harry on the shoulder as he ushered Harry through the pub to a blank wall.

Harry looked at the barman a little confused, he thought he was going to Diagon Alley, and was about to ask what his deal was when Harry saw the barman pull out a long thin stick of wood and tap an odd sequence of bricks.

Harry watched, and felt, magic activate as the bricks began to shift, splitting from the middle till an archway was created, revealing an Alley with stores every which way, and a towering tall white building standing alone at the end of the path Harry was looking down.

"There ya go laddie, Diagon Alley, best be quick with your business though, the shops and bank will be closing soon." The barman told Harry before turning around and returning to his post at the bar.

Harry immediately set course for the bank, no point going to any shops if you didn't have money to buy anything after all.

Coming to the front of the white building, Harry spied a burnished bronze doors at the top of white stairs, with creatures of short stature guarding the door, both wearing uniforms of scarlet and gold standing on either side of the front door.

Walking up the stairs and coming closer to the creatures harry got a closer look at their actual appearance.

"Wow… talk about ugly." The blunt statement from Harry made the two creatures glare at Harry heavily.

"You best show us goblins respect, wizard! You'll not live to insult us again!" the now identified goblin threatened.

Harry couldn't help himself and snicker at the goblin's threat to kill Harry for his disrespect.

"I'll respect you, when you've earned it, goblin." Harry replied before moving to enter the bank. The scarlet and gold garbed goblins crossed their spears they were each holding in front of the door Harry was about to walk through, halting his progress.

"You will show respect, or you will not enter Gringotts." One of the pair demanded.

"Fine...I'm sorry I called you ugly. Happy now?" drawled Harry. The goblin's just continued to sneer at Harry, but pulled apart their spears, clearing Harry's passage into the bank.

Without another word Harry walked passed the goblins and into the bank's entrance hall.

It was a sparse hall with few, if any decorations with only a set of silver doors with words engraved onto them. These doors too, had a pair of goblin's guarding them, these two with swords instead of spears.

'Ooh…scary.' Harry thought mockingly before passing through the silver engraved doors.

Or he would have, if he didn't halt mid step as he felt his body pass what he felt was a line of magic at the threshold of the doors.

His stopping at the door drew the attention of the goblins either side of Harry, both drawing their swords in sync.

"Come with us, Wizard." They demanded, a door appearing on the side wall of the entrance hall.

Shrugging his shoulders Harry did as they asked and followed one as the goblin led him through the door to a long passage, doors all along the way, with the other of the pair trailing behind Harry. Harry did take notice that the door he'd just walked through with the goblins close by itself and vanish as if there wasn't one there at all.

'Isn't that interesting…' Harry mused quietly as he walked for a few minutes till the goblins stopped at a door and ushered him inside.

The room was dimly lit, with circular rings carved into the floor with only four torches in each corner as a source of light. Aside from the door Harry had come through, which closed behind him, there was only one other door, with no windows or any other defining features.

Harry could also feel an ambient pulse of magic within the room coming from the floor's circular pattern, though he couldn't identify what the _feel_ of the magic was meant to do.

'Wonder if they want me to stand in the centre of the circles?' Harry thought sarcastically before moving to stand in the middle of the room on top of the rooms' innermost circle.

In a room adjacent to the one Harry as occupying, a team of goblins, curse breakers to be precise were analysing the data that was being taken in from the examination matrix Harry was standing on.

When Harry hit the entrance hall threshold, he's triggered an alarm that informed the goblins by the silver door that the person seeking entrance to the bank was cursed and needed to be examined to identify the nature of the curse on said person, and their purpose for coming to Gringotts while being cursed.

Let it not be said that the goblins of Gringotts didn't take the security to the extreme.

They had a reputation to uphold.

As the information was being recorded for the curse breakers to read through, the many goblins eyes widened as they read the only two bits that their analysis matrix were able to identify.

One was soul magic in form of a horcrux.

The other was a soul ritual that protected the one intended from their soul being removed from the body.

"Horcrux! Destroy it!" one of the curse breakers yelled out, a sentiment that the other curse breakers wholeheartedly supported, as they bolted from the room to fetch a dragon to burn the horcrux to cinders, and Harry along with it.

Harry meanwhile was closely observing the ripples on the floor with his fingers, his magic gliding over the intricate patterns as his magic brushed over them to better understand what it was that these circles were used for.

For the next 7 minutes Harry was lost to all but the feeling of his magic as he touched the magic on the concentric floor pattern, until the floor began to rumble.

'Wonder what's goin on…' he wondered. 'The floor is solid stone, so my magic says, so whatever it is that's making the ground shake is really big…and it seems to be getting closer.'

Normally the goblins of gringotts wouldn't dare think to bring a dragon up from the lower levels of the high security vaults, as dragons were ridiculously hard to control, even after they had been properly conditioned via torturous methods; but the curse breakers were in a hyped state of mind after seeing Horcrux on the analysis of the examination matrix and that type of magic made goblins lose their mind in a pursuit to have that type of magic destroyed.

So the Curse breakers had retrieved an Ukrainian Iron Belly, and were using clanker's (an item to make loud noise that the dragon was trained to expect to feel great pain after hearing if it didn't move) to direct it to the room that Harry was still in.

With a start, Harry saw the door opposite the one he had come through, open, and a loud clanging noise hit his ears, right before he saw the maw of a dragon opening its maw, feeling the room's temperature increase massively within seconds.

"Oh son of a-"

The room was engulfed in fire.

* * *

AN: another chapter done, what will happen next?

a big thank you to all that have reviewed and those that read the story in general, even without all that many reviews knowing that the story is being read makes me happy.

New methods/ ways that Harry can die that HAVEN'T already been done are more than welcome to be submitted, i will use any and all methods you can think of.

Read and Review


	6. Chapter 6

AN: Thanks to everyone for their views and reviews.

If there are spelling and or grammar errors, I apologise, my keyboard is suffering a case of damaged keys from mmorpg gaming, I'll fix them as I see them.

* * *

Fire was hot, Harry realised as his body stood in the scorched stone slag that used to be the Gringotts analysis chamber for detecting curses and other such magic.

Well, he _knew_ that fire was hot, but there was _knowing_ it was hot and actually _experiencing_ the sheer overwhelming heat of fire by being burnt alive.

By dragon fire at that.

The flash of green from Harry's Revivication had momentarily stunned the dragon and the two goblin curse breakers behind it.

Until Harry walked up to the dragon.

Walking up to dragons was _not_ a smart thing to do for any living being, other dragons included (with the exception of a dragon's clutch of hatched young) so the curse breakers were gobsmacked when they watched Harry, still alive, stand right in front of the Iron Belly and tapped his palm on the readily available dragon hide, magic flowing through his palm.

Harry was quite surprised that his magic was repelled as he tried to analyse the creature in front of him like he did with the chamber's floor moments ago.

'This usually works.' Harry thought, stumped.

Feeling the pulse of magic on its body, the ironbelly expelled another stream of fire at Harry's form, earning a hiss of discomfort from the goblins behind it from the massive increase in temperature of the ruined room.

Seconds later the two goblins stared in astonishment as a now naked Harry stood exactly where he had been previously, completely unharmed, sans the clothes turned to cinders.

"You stupid beast, those clothes cost me all the money I had! Now I'm naked!" Harry barked at the giant creature. This just made the dragon more annoyed, and not a second later opened its maw and ate him whole.

A Dagon's mouth full of teeth were known to bite through a lot of things like steel and stone with very little effort, few things were able to stay intact when a dragon decides it wanted to chew on it; so the dragon was confused when there was another green flash, and Harry still in its mouth, began moving around inside the dragon's maw.

The dragon grew annoyed at this strange feeling of something flailing around in its mouth, and deciding it didn't want it to be in its mouth anymore.

And swallowed whatever it was whole.

"What the heck was that?" the observing goblins asked, bewildered at the scene that unfolded in front of their very eyes. As Curse breakers they had seen a lot of crazy shit happen, but what they had seen just now was quite possibly the craziest thing they had ever seen.

Inside the dragon's stomach there was no light, so Harry couldn't see, but he could feel his tough skin begin to itch as the stomach acid he was standing in began to do it work of dissolving him.

"Where am I gonna get new clothes?" were his last words before the acid, highly magically corrosive substance that it was, melted Harry.

Everything, sans the noise from the ironbelly, was quiet or a few moments inside the cooling analysing chamber of Gringotts, then the goblins saw the dragon's mouth flash green again, and the dragon started clawing at its gut as if it were in a great deal of discomfort.

"OI!" the goblins heard from inside the dragon's maw. "You'll regret this ya stupid lizard!"

By this point, the act of the curse breakers bringing a dragon to the surface of the bank had drawn a lot of attention from their goblin colleagues and a crowd was amassing around the curse breakers and the lone dragon.

Employees of Gringotts within the bounds of the bank all felt a massive surge of magic before there was a loud explosion immediately followed by shrieking from a dragon.

Harry climbed his way out of the stomach of the, now, dead dragon very unhappy with his situation. As he pushed away the dragon innards that were surrounding him he came to realize something very important, other than his lack of clothes.

"The bloody lizard destroyed my glasses too!" with an angry hiss Harry slammed a closed fist on the dragon's carcass as a means of venting his ire.

Then Harry caught the blurry sight of two small _things_ in his field of vision, whatever they were Harry could at least tell that they were moving.

"Hey, if you wouldn't mind, I'm kinda naked here." Grouched Harry, snapping the curse breakers out of their shock from seeing a wizard kill a dragon _from the inside_. "A little help would be much appreciated."

o.o

Harry, garbed in a plain grey wizards robe, sat in an office, opposite a seated goblin behind a desk with the two curse breakers from before standing on both sides of the first goblin.

It hadn't taken long for Harry to be switched to this office, as the thoroughly destroyed analysis chamber was swarmed with teams of goblins removing the dragon carcass, and given a plain robe to cover himself with as he was told to sit in a chair in front of a suited up goblin in what Harry assumed was the dressed up goblin's office. Or rather Harry was directed by hand, being nearly blind without glasses, to his current seat.

Harry had only just sat down when, what Harry assumed to be a door, opened and three blurs that Harry assumed were goblins took positions behind the vacant desk.

"Listen goblins, whatever your names are, I'm appreciative that you gave me the robe and everything so I wasn't naked anymore, but I still can't see worth a damn except very blurry objects, so if this meeting involves anything like reading I'll have to pass." Harry told them bluntly. There was a few seconds of even more silence.

"And if this has anything to do with that dragon, that's not my fault, the dragon ate me! I can't really be blamed for something that my magic did. If anything I should be compensated for my loss of property because of what the dragon did, I lost the only clothes I had, and my glasses which I need to see. And also-"

"Be Quiet Wizard." The middle goblin barked out, interrupting Harry's rant as it was gaining intensity. "Our Curse Breakers say that you are a horcrux, mind telling me how this is possible?"

"A whore-cocks?" asked Harry, an amused grin sprouting across his face. "Never heard of such a thing."

"A Hor-CRUX, wizard, is a severed part of a witch or wizards soul. It seems to reside around your crown." The office goblin told Harry, making Harry's eyes widen slightly in surprise.

"Well I'll be damned…" Harry muttered, scratching at his fringe that was covering his scar, revealing it to the goblins in front of him.

The instant the goblins caught sight of Harry's scar, they immediately knew who they were dealing with, which changed their attitudes in a blink of the eye.

"Harry Potter…why didn't you tell us what your name was, all of this could have been avoided." the office goblin said making Harry crease his brow in confusion.

"Hold on, you know me? How? And how could all of this, the circle room and the dragon, have been avoided? I never even made it passed the silver doors at the front before I was pulled to the side through a door that _wasn't even there_ , into that circle room with that weird magic in it."

"The silver doors, the doors that lead to the lobby of Gringotts, triggered an alert that there was something wrong with you, so you were brought into an Analysis chamber for us to identify it, those that are potential threats are not permitted into Gringotts until the issue is resolved." The office goblin explained.

Harry heard the sound of rustling paper for a moment before the goblin continued.

"Aside from the horcrux, there is also evidence of a ritual performed that has done something to your soul, but I and our curse breakers cannot identify what exactly it was meant to do. Our Analysis chamber so indicated that the ritual on your soul is older than the horcrux." The goblin continued.

"Well this is all very interesting but I can't help but _not hear_ how you know who I am when I've never been here before." Harry said which made the goblins, all three present, look at him strangely…well even more strangely than before when Harry pushed his way out of a dragon.

"You don't know, Mr Potter?" the middle goblin asked, sceptical.

"What is it that I'm I supposed to bloody know!? Spit it out!" Harry was beginning to get really annoyed now, did Petunia leave out parts in her story telling?

"Mr Potter…you're the Boy Who Lived."

"The who that did what now?"

The middle goblin, who revealed his name was Razorclaw, informed Harry of the events 10 years ago, some of which Harry already knew from his aunt's recounted _storytelling_ , other parts he didn't, like how he was the only one to live through the one curse that no one had ever survived –

"You said that this…ritual on my soul…was done before this piece of someone's soul attached itself to me?" Harry asked, just to get his fact straight.

"Correct." Razorclaw answered.

"Then it was something my mum and dad did… probably the reason why I can't seem to stay dead…but why they would do something like that begs the question of their reason for doing so." Harry mused, his words making the goblin curse breakers exactly what they had seen with the dragon.

Which they whispered to Razorclaw an instant later.

"Yes… that does seem very peculiar, Mr Potter… you cannot seem to die." Razorclaw began, a little uneasily. Goblins had always used the threat of death on wizards and witches that got too rowdy in their bank, Gringotts _was_ sovereign land after all and this new development with Harry could complicate things.

"Well that's not exactly true," Harry replied a little embarrassed. "I can die, your two buddies at your side _saw_ that, I just don't _stay_ dead…I always come back after a flash of green."

"Extraordinary…" Razorclaw muttered.

"I also can't seem to die again by a cause of death I've experienced before..." Harry revealed earning him looks of astonishment from the goblins in front of him.

"Mr Potter! How could you have possibly died before today? Don't you have people that look after you?" Children were near sacred to goblins, as the small statured creatures didn't have children very often, or very easily, it part of the reason why they signed so many peace treaties in the past.

"Eh, I have people I'm related to, if that's what you're asking but they are the ones that have killed me many times over. They starved me and deprived me of anything to drink till I died once, they beat me up so bad I died, they drowned and strangle me, not to mention all the spiders and snakes but they weren't because of my relatives, my relatives only put me in those places where the snakes and spiders had the chance."

As Harry as recounting the ways his family had killed him the goblins were looking at him in shock, till Harry began clicking his fingers to get their attention.

"Hey, you still there? I have a question for you." Harry asked, now growing impatient being in this office, mostly because the chair he was sitting on was mighty uncomfortable more than anything else.

"What is it?" Razorclaw asked gruffly, getting back into the typical goblin mannerism that magical human's best associated them with.

"Well this is a bank right? And I came here in the first place to see if I had any money here, so would you mind telling me if I have any here or not?"

"Of course you do, your family has had vaults here for generations." Razorclaw answered gruffly.

"Oh good, don't suppose we could wrap this up so I could go get some? Your dragon kinda destroyed everything I had so I need it all replaced."

"Soon…first we need to deal with that horcrux in your head, Gringotts will not permit to have a horcrux wandering freely in our bank." Razorclaw replied making Harry scowl.

'Oh come on…' groused Harry in his head.

"We will need to have you looked over-"

"No way! After what you did with that room and the dragon? You can forget it. Just tell me where it is and I'll cut it out myself." Harry refused.

"My Potter, horcrux' cannot be dealt with like that." Razorclaw deadpanned.

"Hey didn't we just go over that I can't stay dead? Just tell me where it is and I'll do what I did to the dragon to get rid of it." Harry replied heatedly.

"About that Mr Potter, what exactly did you do to that ironbelly dragon?" one of the curse breakers interjected. "That will need to go in our report as the dragon's carcass is disposed of." The goblin explained to Razorclaw.

"Ok if you just _have_ to know…" Harry sighed exaggeratingly. "I focused my magic into a tight ball and let it explode, it is how I learned to use my magic the way I do…at first at any rate. The dragon's skin didn't react well with my magic when I tried to have my magic scan it but when I was inside it, after I came back to life after being melted by its stomach, there was nothing stopping me from doing it, so I let my magic loose which killed the dragon… which I say again is not my fault." Harry answered defensively.

"The horcrux is in your scar, Mr Potter." Razorclaw answered after a moment's silence, and looking over the report from Harry's analysis.

"Big surprise there…" Harry muttered. "You mind if I do this here or would you like me to go somewhere else? I imagine that with blowing off my own head it might spray about the room."

"This way." Razorclaw answered moving to a door that Harry swore wasn't there a moment ago. Finally getting off that uncomfortable chair Harry followed Razorclaw through the door into a plain looking room with swords and shields hung up on their walls.

"Take off the robe too, it's not yours and we don't want it dirty."

Grumbling at the goblin for making Harry stand naked in a room full of weapons, Harry focused his magic into his palm and placed it flat over his scar.

A few seconds later Harry's head exploded in a gory shower of blood brains and bone.

Followed by a flash of green.

Razorclaw handed Harry the robe back, returning to Razorclaw's office, where the curse breakers began looking over Harry's scar to see if it was still a horcrux.

Seven minutes later, a very miffed Harry was told that his scar was still a horcrux.

"Stupid bloody piece of…" Harry began cursing till an idea came to him as his eyes caught sight of a dagger on Razorclaw's desk.

Summoning the dagger to his hand Harry was halted from doing anything else when the curse breaker's each took hold of each of his arms holding Harry still.

"Wizards are not allowed weapons in the bank, Gringotts policy." One of them spoke making Harry scowl.

"Ok then, you do it then, I wouldn't be able to do it well without a mirror anyway." Harry said with a growl as the curse breakers let Harry's arms go, one of them taking the dagger from Harry.

"Do what, Mr Potter?" Razorclaw asked sitting behind his desk again.

"Your curse breakers can cut my scar off my head with the dagger, and if I die from them doing it then they can do it again when I come back to life. Then I can finally get some money to buy some clothes."

* * *

AN: Harry can't die by the same **cause of death** twice. If it helps, I'll add a list of all ways Harry has died in the past to allay some confusion if you want.

Do you think Harry's attempt at cutting his scar off his head will work?

Read and Review!

Please.


	7. Chapter 7

AN: here we are again. I don't stick to any particular writing schedule, or plan these fics out all that much, hence why updates are all over he place.

But it IS an update, which **has** to count for something, right?

Enjoy!

* * *

There was a few moments pause in Razorclaw's office as Harry's last words sifted through the brains of the goblins present.

"How…many times have you died…Mr Potter…?" the lead goblin in the room asked.

"All of this I've already told you, I'm just counting them seeing as you can't seem to count them yourself..." Harry paused, mentally backtracking his deaths, counting them on his hands till he went past ten and continued on. "…Thirteen."

"That is quite a number Mr Potter." Razorclaw commented, choosing to ignore that slight against him and his race, it wasn't like he could threaten to kill the boy if the boy wouldn't _stay_ dead after all.

"Now that we have that cleared up, can we get to the cutting the scar off my head please? The sooner we do this the sooner I can get my money and get my clothes, I assure you I don't exactly like standing naked in an office of goblins." Harry asked, just a little abashed at his lack of dress.

There was a moment of shuffling among the goblin's as they looked on their bodies for an appropriate dagger. A few seconds later one of the goblins found one that was most appropriate, after consulting with their companions in Gobbledegook for a moment.

"You understand Mr Potter that this has a chance of not working at all, don't you?" the Curse-breaker asked as he approached Harry with the dagger moving towards his forehead.

"No not really, if it works or doesn't it doesn't really matter, I'll just have to look into other ways to get rid of this…whore cock, if this doesn't work." Harry said with a grin, knowing exactly what he'd just said.

"But if just cutting it off my head won't work, why not use a dagger that cuts magic out of stuff, if something like that even exists. Enough of the chatter, get to the cutting! Chop chop!" Harry prompted impatiently, he did have other things to do today.

Razorclaw waved at the Curse-Breaker to proceed. In the span of time it took to breathe a single breath the Curse-Breaker had carved the lightning bolt off of Harry's forehead leaving a deep red patch of where the scar used to be present.

Said patch of freshly cut skin began gushing blood.

"I'd be mightily pissed off if I had clothes on right now, kinda get why you asked me to take off the robe." Muttered Harry as blood spurted down his head and over his nude form in a steady stream.

"Well?" Razorclaw asked the Curse-Breaker who held the swath of skin that had the scar. A moment for a diagnostic charm later saw the Curse Breaker shake his head.

"Nope… it's still there, we will have to enchant a blade to excise the splinter." The Curse Breaker.

"Splinter?" one of the other goblins asked.

"The horcrux in the boy is far too small to be the only one created, there are more out there…a lot more if the size of the one in the boy is any indication." The Curse-Breaker clarified for his colleagues.

"Wow, that's terrific!" deadpanned Harry. "Don't suppose any of you could seal this hole in my head up so we can get on with our lives, hm?"

Razorclaw was strongly fighting the urge to smack the boy for his impudence, the only thing stopping him was the shitstorm said action would inevitably create for the bank if he did that to one of the bank's most profitable clients.

That and he knew the boy would do something just like that for the way that the bank had treated him, and Razorclaw had fought so hard to acquire this office, he didn't need this brat give another goblin the ammunition to take it away from him so soon after he'd gotten it.

It took fifteen minutes to both seal the hole in Harry's head and issue him with a temporary set of clothes for Harry to wear as well as fetch the key to Harry's vault. Of that time Harry was busy cleaning his body of all the blood on his body, he wasn't wearing _anything_ on his person with blood underneath it.

Both Harry and Razorclaw were immensely happy by the end of the time spent waiting, Razorclaw for Harry's sass and Harry for the surliness of the goblins in his company.

"Now that you have your key you will be escorted to your vault, so get the hell out of my office!" Razorclaw barked, emphasising his irritation with a fist slam on his desk. "You will be contacted at a later date when, if, a viable solution to the horcrux in your body has been discovered. Now scram!"

"Finally! Hopefully I'll never see your ugly mug again." Harry quipped lightly as he followed his escort out of the office, leaving Razorclaw alone with the curse-breakers to discuss excising methods.

"If I ever see that brat again it'll be too soon…" snarled Razorclaw as the door to his office closed.

After a high speed cart ride to his vault, with assistance from the cart goblin due to Harry's lack of glasses, retrieved a lot of money and rode a cart ride back to the main floor. Harry made to leave the bank with an escort goblin to assist in his getting around, before being stopped just short of the entrance by the guards.

"Those clothes are on loan Wizard, they will need to be returned at first convenience." They had said. This of course just made Harry scoff at the audacity of the guard's race.

"Wow, how uppity can you get… you're so clingy to these rags." Harry quipped. "Especially considering that you _can't even wear them!_ "

"Anything of goblin origin, no matter the item is sacred! You best remember that!" the guard replied vehemently.

"Geez… take a chill pill, damn… the way you're acting you'd think these rags were made of gold or something…" Harry said muttering the last part as he exited the bank and back into Diagon Alley.

Standing in the Alley outside the bank entrance the issue of his visual impairment came at him like a wet fish to the face.

"Son of a-" Harry began to vent before an idea that hadn't presented itself until just now, popped into his head.

Focusing his magic into his eyeballs, or what he believed to be his eyeballs at any rate, Harry focused the desire to see clearer into the magic flowing to his eyes.

To Harry's growing ego, this seemed to work, to a degree, things observed in his field of vision weren't giant misty blobs anymore, though there was a little smoky outline to everything.

'It's not perfect, but it'll have to do for now… does this Alley have a glasses shop? It had better or there will be hell to pay for that dragon taking my eyewear…regardless of whether or not the pair I had was a piece of crap.' Harry thought ominously as he began his trek down Diagon Alley.

Harry did manage to find one, on the right end of the Alley. One eye testing charm later and an exchange of coins later Harry was mercifully no longer near blind.

Harry's first stop after that was, to his ire, a clothes store; he wanted to get out of these goblin given rags as soon as possible so to avoid the stingy goblins setting upon him about the robes that they had oh so graciously lent him.

"I need a watch too, or something that will keep time…I have no idea what time it is…" bemoaned Harry as he trudged through the Alley. For all of a second before he stopped dead, feeling the urge to smack his forehead.

"Harry you're a moron…Time!" Harry commanded opening his palm, commanding his magic to tell him the local time.

Noting the time flashing in his face, and suddenly noticing the scarce few people around the Alley, Harry came upon a very important realization.

"Everything's fucking closed! GOD DAMN IT!" he decried, to the bafflement and amusement of the few late evening, early night denizens of the alley within earshot before heading back towards the start of Diagon Alley in Search for a place to stay.

Harry didn't need to eat or drink, or sleep in comfort but if he had the option he was going to take it.

Thankfully the owner Tom, the man that Harry remembered being the guy that showed him to the entrance of Diagon Alley, was more than willing to accommodate Harry with a room to stay up until September 1st, although when the man found out exactly _who_ Harry was, Harry had to ask _very nicely_ very quickly if he could keep a lid on him being there, the last thing Harry needed right now was to be bombarded by raving fans.

'At least until I'm ready to handle it.' He told himself.

The next day, armed with money from the bank Harry made his way down and through Diagon Alley, his first stop, a clothing shop.

"I sense a great foreboding coming from here…" muttered Harry as he entered what he assumed had to be a clothes store.

'If the sign Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions isn't a sure mark for a clothing store…' Harry thought ominously as he entered the store.

One and a half hours later, a much poorer Harry left the robes shop dressed in a totally new look of velvety dark coloured robes, all of his many other purchased sets of clothes, magical and mundane, shrunk down and stored in his robes' pockets.

"Where to go now…oh shit before forget, I gotta return these rags for robes…oops." A quick detour to Gringotts saw Harry literally throw the robes at the goblin guards at the front of the bank, to the utter shock and bafflement of the few people passing by at that exact time.

Harry only stuck around long enough to hear a string of what he could only assume to be swearing in Goblin tongue explode from the guards at the front before hightailing it out of the area as fast as he was able.

"Now with that sorted out…time to buy a chest; I am not buying no books, or anything else, without a place to store it all…damn it all, I should've gotten that first!" Harry exclaimed, smacking his forehead in annoyance for his lack of foresight, before exploring the Alley for a trunk shop.

Five minutes of tedious wandering saw Harry come across such a shop, which to Harry's great irritation costed a sizable amount of the money that Harry had on his person.

"Upselling assholes…" Muttered Harry as he left the shop for his next destination, a book store. Fortunately this store wasn't nearly as hard to find, unfortunately for him, Harry's booklist had burnt to ash from the dragon that roasted him the day previous.

As a consequence of not having a booklist Harry had nothing limiting him in his search for interesting material to purchase, the only one on the aforementioned book list that he'd tagged to buy being the Standard Book of Spells, and that one only because it specifically said on its cover, Year One.

Everyone had to start from the bottom up, and Harry had no illusions that he as any different regarding magic and its practical use.

Harry had, aimlessly wandering the isles of the shop, picked up books on a whole heap of assorted topics from Potions to Transfiguration and even Enchanting, because Harry thought it sounded interesting, and Harry didn't want to use his time on things that could possibly end up being boring.

His book choices selected Harry made his way to the clerk to purchase them when he was told he couldn't have more than half of the books he'd chosen.

"These books are for people a lot older than you, kid. Judging from your size you're most likely a First Year, aren't ya?" the store employee told him. Harry silently fumed at being denied his chosen reading material but nodded in affirmation to the shopkeeper's question.

"Where's your list then?" the man asked.

"Turned to ash, if you _have_ to know." Grunted out Harry.

"Ah, a Floo accident huh? Happens every now and then I'm told…not to worry kid, the store's sent a copy of what books for the year a student needs a few weeks before school starts just for this reason, we'll get you sorted out."

Harry had half a mind to tell the shopkeeper to "Go fuck yourself." But held his tongue; they might charge him extra money and while Harry had a lot on him at present, he didn't want to do anything that would hasten his need to go back to the bank and the blasted goblins.

'That's what the trunk salesman did.' Thought Harry, his mood bristling at the memory before his mind returned to the present.

The employee at the register called for an assistant and had them take Harry off to collect the appropriate First Year materials, returning twenty minutes later to complete the sale.

After leaving the store Harry hightailed it back to the Leaky Cauldron to sift through the newly bought books. When he did, his mood began to turn sour quickly, there was no references to anything that he thought would be in them, it was all introductory warnings or what not to do and the potential dangers involved in this branch of magic.

"Bah." Huffed Harry as he tossed the book in hand across the room, which hit the wall with a dull thud before hitting the floor.

What need did he have for precautions and warnings?

Another thing, he realized, after skipping to another book in favour of the one he'd just thrown, was that much of what was involved inside had a lot to do with a wand and waving said stick around. Which he didn't have yet.

Or need one, really.

"Well hell…" Harry grumbled, flicking through the pages to see if there as a glimpse of anything interesting, realizing after a quick glance at each page, that more than half the book in his hands covered warnings and precautions of what would happen if something would go wrong with attempting to use the magics described in the books pages.

"Nope screw that," Harry decided, throwing all the books he had out, back into his trunk, slamming it shut. "I'm gonna go get my cauldron and… potion ingredients…" Harry stopped abruptly, the words he had just said reverberating in his head for a moment before near face faulting as they recycled in his mind.

"I can't believe I was thinking of doing something so…childish…" he grimaced in distaste before going for another book in the stack, picking one at random.

"Standard Book of Spells eh? As good a place to start as any really." He said with a shrug before beginning to flip through the book.

"Wand Lighting…pass. Softening…has potential, I suppose. Severing charm…that could be interesting, as well as the fire making charm; kind of glad that dragon roasted me now…though I'll still need to be careful about my clothes… but I can kind of do that anyway, I did it at Privet Drive pretty easily so I think I can skip that one too. What else… oh locking and unlocking spells, which will come in handy…" Harry uttered, rubbing his hands together in unholy glee at the possibilities that could have for him.

"What else… mending and Levitation, that's _really_ basic, and makes a very short list of things to learn over the entire year in one class…" Realising this, Harry's shoulders sagged with impending dread.

"I'm going to be _so_ bored, I can tell."

Resigning himself to what he believed was going to be a very dull year at a school for learning magic, Harry chose a spell at random and began to practice, magic sparking to life between his fingers.

He couldn't do the spells like in the book, but like he'd done with analysing magic within Gringotts, if he focused enough will into his magic, it would conform to his wishes and do as he intended, like he'd done right from the beginning.

With this mindset of his, Harry was casting charms all across the room wandlessly without a care in the world in moments.

With his little thrill of casting easy magic, easily ebbing away Harry's mind began to wander, his mind coming back to a conversation between him and the goblins within the bank.

"Whatever you did mum…" Harry spoke fancifully to the empty room, laying lazily on the bed. "It has well and truly done me a solid, not dying is so cool! And I can do so much now because of it, more than likely due to that death from magic overload but hey, I'll take it."

"I wonder how many other ways I'll be able to die in this world, these magicals had better be creative…" Harry thought before leaving his temporary lodgings for the Alley once more.

From his venture through the Alley yesterday Harry noticed that everyone he'd seen used a wand, and Harry, in a bout of prudence decided that he probably should get one for himself, if only to disguise his, clearly, rare wandless casting capabilities.

Not that he'd use it all that much, if ever.

* * *

AN: I'm not making this too easy for him, am I? With the whole wandless intent casting and such.

Suggestions are helpful, as always.

Also, if you're still reading at this point, (because lets face it, who actually _reads_ Author's Notes? I mean, I try to but it's usually just author's ramblings, so i skip them more often than not.) I'd like to thank those that have Reviewed, the 55 that have Faved and the 93 that have, at this point in time, followed this story, and the one C2 that this fic is in. It really does give me the warm fuzzys seeing one of the 11 stories i'm writing is enjoyed by more than just me (as the writer, if you're not having fun doing it, then what exactly is the point of it all?).

Till next time!

o/


	8. Chapter 8

AN:Doomsday is back!

Hope you enjoy it

* * *

Harry had only just stepped out of the Leaky Cauldron into Diagon Alley when an eagle owl swooped down upon him, an envelope smacking the boy in the face from its talons before flying off again.

'God damn stupid buzzard…' groused Harry as he took the envelope in his hands to see who, or what, had sent him mail so he could prepare some pretty crass words.

The second he saw the seal on the envelope he swore.

It was the bloody goblins.

"What the hell do they want now?" grunting in annoyance he tore the letter free of its wrapping, incinerating the torn up envelope in his hand with a flare of magic as he turned on the spot back to the Cauldron for a place to sit and read the message.

'Not gonna stand in the middle of the Alley, people passing me by staring at me for blocking the door, now am I?' he thought as he sat down at a vacant table, bringing the letter up to eye level to read the missive.

It was just a short message, saying that they had consulted with their Curse Breakers after Harry's little impromptu meeting with Razorclaw two days ago and had come up with a possible solution to his 'scar being a soul anchor' problem, and requested that he come to the bank 'as soon as he was able to' to test it out.

It had also mentioned, at the very bottom of the letter, that he 'had better issue this letter to the front goblins guarding the bank so they knew he was being expected', as to avoid being hoisted into an analysis chamber again.

'Well I _was_ gonna go get my wand today but this is far more important.' Making the decision Harry made haste to Gringotts.

Coming to a stop in front of the bank Harry approached the front door guards and flashed the Gringotts letter in their faces. Right in their faces so they couldn't see anything else.

That way they couldn't possibly miss it.

The goblin who was having the letter waved in his face snatched it out of Harry's hand.

"What do you think you're doing, boy wizard?" the guard on the left growled out. Harry just crossed his arms, his interaction at the front of the bank drawing a few curious, and nervous, onlookers from the Alley, after all no sane person would _intentionally_ try to antagonise the goblin guards of Gringotts unless they had a death wish.

If only they knew…

"You _stupid_ Goblins sent me this letter, told me to show this to _you at the front of the bank_ so you would take me inside. Last time I tried entering alone I was dragged into a chamber because of the curse on my forehead." Harry replied with a sneer, parting his fringe to show the goblins his scar.

"Watch your tongue boy wizard, or I'll cut it out for your blatant disrespect." The goblin replied, looking the letter over again far more shrewdly than the last time.

Harry, as a young boy would, quickly grew bored of just standing at the front of the bank and began making tick tock noises with his tongue, to both pass the time and piss of the goblins in front of him.

The goblins guarding the front doors, who were of the spear wielding variety, grew very annoyed at this noise within the span of a few seconds, the one not with Harry's letter brandishing their elongated weapon at Harry, who, for fun, decided to stand into the arc of the approaching deadly weapon and impaled his left palm on it before closing his hand around the spear so the goblin couldn't pull it out easily.

"Hey, are you done yet? Can we get moving already?" Harry asked impatiently as the spear wielding goblin tried to retract his spear from Harry's hand, its eyes narrowed in confusion at the distinct lack of painful screaming from Harry.

The guard with the letter turned one eye from the letter to the impaled hand for a second.

"You escort this young wizard inside, through the right passage to Bogrod's office… this brat is expected." With his piece said the now letter-less goblin returned to his previous position glaring out at everyone who had either slowed down or stopped to watch the the show that Harry had created by stabbing his hand on a goblin spear.

With a surly grunt the spear wielding goblin yanked at his spear base breaking Harry's hold on his weapon before taking the letter from his partner and marching inside, completely ignoring that his weapon was dripping blood on the ground as he entered the bank entryway and exposed a passage on the left wall.

"Follow me boy wizard." The goblin commanded as he marched down the newly opened path, Harry hot on his trail, unbothered by the spurting wound of his left palm as it slowly sealed itself; the opening on the left wall of the Entryway closing soundlessly as Harry crossed its threshold.

Witches and Wizards who had been watching the scene, speaking in hushed whispers about what they'd just seen happen, all dispersed in a flurry when the remaining front goblin guarding the front door yelled out a quick bark of gobbledegook; another pair of spear wielding goblins standing in place as the first goblin entered the bank to vanish through another door that spontaneously appeared before vanishing just as quick, those watching the event, if it had happened faster, would think that their eyes had been seeing things, sans the blood on the ground.

(o.o)

Harry kept pace with a goblin escort through a series of many turns that would have made anyone shake their heads on confusion, after all how can anyone take _four left turns_ _in a row_ and be going in a completely different direction than what they were when they began; before coming to a stop at a closed door, a plaque with the name Bogrod displayed proudly at its centre.

The guard, taking a stand to the doors right, slapped Harry's Gringotts letter into Harry's hands and grunted with a gesture to go inside after knocking five times on the door's dark wood.

Walking through the door into the office Harry's eyes washed over the decor of the room, his expression, having been neutral this whole time, changed to deadpan within seconds.

"Geez.. do all you goblins have the same weapons displayed on your walls?" Harry shook his head in disbelief as he neared a seat opposite a desk with a goblin sitting behind it.

Sliding the letter he'd received across the desk to the lone goblin in the room, Harry took a seat and watched his left palm's open wound slowly seal itself completely.

"Mr Potter, I am Bogrod, lead goblin of the Curse breaking branch of Gringotts." The goblin, dressed in a midget sized maroon suit, said.

"Yeah, I kinda gathered that much from the shiny sign on the door to the office." Quipped Harry.

"My colleagues and I have," Bogrod continued on as if he had not heard Harry at all. "We believe, constructed a means by which we can cut the sliver of foreign soul from your own, though there may arise certain unknown complications from attempting to do so. As this would be the first time ever anyone of our particular skill set has come across such a case as a living horcrux like yourself, I must ask you to sign this waiver that absolves us from legal accountability should anything unfortunate happen to you during this process." Bogrod explained, pushing a sheet of parchment across his desk for Harry to take.

"You were told by your buddies what happened two days ago in Razorclaw's office, right? That I can't stay dead if I do die?" Questioned Harry with a cocked brow.

"I was informed that after your head exploded, there was a green flash of magic whereupon you reappeared unharmed. However with this," Bogrod withdrew a 3 inch blade from a case behind his desk, the blade pulsing with a faint blue hue. "Whatever was done to you by your mother that enables this reaction may be nullified in its entirety if you undergo this procedure, if we remove this horcrux from you and you die from us trying to fix the tampering of your soul, you may not come back. Knowing this, will you still be willing to undergo the process?" Bogrod said, trying to keep to professional politeness.

This had Harry stop and think for a moment.

Doing this might actually kill him, for real?

Hmm….

"Would you give me a few minutes to think about it?" Harry asked. Bogrod grinned in response.

"Take _all_ the time you want, Mr Potter; after all… _time is money_ …"

'Eugh… I should have known, I'm being charged for a meeting that has a chance of killing me for good…eh fuck it.'

"I'll take the risk Bogrod, let's cut this thing outa me." Bogrod nodded in affirmation before abruptly slamming his fist into his desk, another goblin rushing into the office from a door behind Bogrod.

'These damn goblins and their damn doors.' Groused Harry as he saw the door the new goblin had come through had, like the others he'd seen today and two days ago, seemingly vanished.

"Prepare the chamber, we have an experimental extraction to prepare." Bogrod told the newcomer goblin who raced through yet another god be damned appearing/vanishing door, before getting off his desk chair and coming around to Harry's side of the desk.

"If you will follow me, Mr Potter." Bogrod requested, ushering Harry up to, and through an arch that, much to Harry's amazement, actually _had_ been there the entire time and didn't appear/vanish like so many doors he'd seen within the bank.

The archway was the topmost section to a stone staircase with fire lit torches on its walls that descended downward for twenty steps, to a chamber, not unlike the Analysis Chamber of two days ago, the only difference was that there was far more symbols drawn on the ground in various pentagram like designs with a stone slab in the dead centre.

"On the centre stone." Bogrog instructed. "You might wish to discard your clothes as well."

Harry just grunted, shedding his clothes and lying down on the stone slab.

'If I didn't already think that goblin's nearly hated us, I'd think that they got some kinda sick kick out of seeing naked human boys…'

Bogrod barked something in gobbledegook and the chamber had six more goblin's show up within seconds from the sides of the chamber before they began a chant of some kind, the many pentagram circles around the chamber lighting up in various colours or blue, pinks, yellows and greens.

"Whilst the beginning preparations are underway I must ask you Mr Potter, don't use magic of any kind, it will clash with the ritual process." Bogrod added on as a last minute memo.

As the fancy circles lit up, Bogrod began to walk, or rather march rather pompously, through them in an order Harry couldn't discern, the blue hued blade from moments ago in the office above, clasped tightly in his clawed hands, changing to different coloured hues after he passed through each circle.

'Wonder how long this will take…' Harry though, turning his head to stare straight up at, what Harry assumed to be, a stone ceiling.

An unknown lapse of time later, because Harry had become very annoyed at hearing these goblins chant whatever they were chanting, Bogrod came to stand at the stone slab Harry was lying on, directly above his head, before the blade sank into Harry's forehead with no warning or fanfare.

That was the last thing Harry remembered before he blanked out.

(o.o)

The very first thing Harry did as he regained consciousness was bring his hand to his forehead to check for the blade that Bogrod had skewered him with.

Feeling no indents or lacerations under his fingertips Harry opened his eyes to check exactly where he was.

It seemed that he was still in the same place he's been previously, on the stone slab in the ritual chamber.

'Where are the horrid chanting goblins and Bogrod and his fancy knife though? And the flashy circles?' Harry thought as he swung his legs over the stone slab to stand up.

Only to stand on a tiny baby….thing, which shrieked at the contact, making Harry dizzy.

'Wow, talk about ugly.' Harry made a face before moving away from it.

Everything seemed to be as Harry remembered the chamber he had been in, sans the lack of singing goblins, light circles and a the one stab happy Goblin that got Harry in the head with the fancy piece of cutlery.

"Oi ugly, you know where this is? Where are we?" Harry asked, kneeling down to its level but staying a healthy few meters away.

The ugly baby thing just moaned as if in great pain, the sound incredibly raspy as if whatever the thing was, it was having a hard time trying to breathe.

'I didn't stand on it _that_ hard, did I?'

Harry knelt there for a few seconds, eyeing the squinting red eyes that looked back at him.

"Wait a minute…what was it that that curse breaker from Razorclaw's office said? The Horcrux was small…a splinter of a soul… whatever that thing is, it's certainly ugly enough to qualify as a soul thingamajig. So…time to die ugly!" Choice made Harry approached the infantile fraction of a soul (as far as he knew), his lightning bolt dagger that Vernon took from him, unconsciously, silently fading into existence in his hands.

Gripping his weapon in both hands Harry came to a stop, standing right over the ugly baby, a steel glint in his eye. Harry bent down and slammed his blade into the baby thing's head, impaling it to the ground, whereupon there was a bright flash of _not_ green light before his vision went black and he knew no more.

(o.o)

Bogrod sensed a imminent surge of magic coming from the boy wizard in front of him, a feeling of an imminent explosion growing fast in his 3 stomachs.

'We should have worked on this for _a lot_ longer than two days…' Bogrod thought just before Harry's magic detonated, blowing him and his cohorts off their feet and into the walls of the chamber.

Goblins of all classes were very durable creatures but even they were a bit dazed by the force of which they were slammed into the stone walls of the ritual chamber, Bogrod being the sole one hit the hardest as he was in the epicentre of the explosion.

"Son of a bitch…that asshole sure left me one hell of an ugly parting gift…" they heard Harry grumble as he sat up on the centre slab, clutching his head in great pain.

"Hey Bogrod, was that supposed to happen?" Harry asked as he looked around the after effects of the explosion he had caused, the pain he was feeling quickly receding.

"No, it was not." Bogrod answered, getting up off the floor with a wince before cautiously approaching Harry. Who knew if he was going to explode again. "What did you mean by parting gift, Mr Potter?"

"Expelling magic like that hurts, I'll have you know, if I hadn't already died like that already there'd be bits of me everywhere right now. I assume that's what happened given what the room looks like and how I'm feeling."

"I see…" thinking for a moment the Lead Curse breaker cast a diagnostic charm specifically of the spiritual variety, the kind that they had used on dementor victims in the past, to check if they were successful and the only soul in Harry's body was entirely his own.

"What's the damage, did this fancy sing and dance thing of yours do the job or what?" the preteen asked, folding his arms in his growing impatience.

"If you will shut up and let me work, I'll tell you in a moment if we did or not." Bogrod growled back. "The diagnosis can take a few minutes you impudent brat."

" _Fine_ …" Harry retorted with a near sulking look, he didn't like being naked around ugly creatures like goblins, it made him uncomfortable to the extreme, though he was very good at hiding it.

Bogrod, after finishing the diagnosis, grew pensive; whatever the results were it seemed to trouble him.

"It seems, according to my analysis, that the process was partially successful and the horcrux, is in a sense, dead, but it didn't dislodge and vanish as it should have. My examination tells me that you are hosting a ghost inside your soul now, somehow." Bogrod answered cautiously, this was, after all new territory they were dealing with.

"Well that's just fantastic."

"It would seem, that our crafted soul blade was not tuned enough to your magic, and soul, to do more than kill it; if we are to properly remove it like we intend to, we need a blade that has a strong resonance with you so it can get in deep enough to the depths of your soul to, essentially, dig the splinter out." Bogrod explained.

"Resonance? The hell does that mean?" Harry asked, quite confused.

"If we had your wand, _if you have one_ , we can meld its magical feel to the soul blade so it can go in deep enough to cut the ties the dead horcrux has left inside you." Bogrod explained, annoyed at having to explain himself.

"Well I don't have a wand yet."

"We know, which is why you best go get one, Mr Potter, after which come back and my team and I will try again. Now as you can see, your explosion has damaged this chamber quite a bit, so get dressed and get out, we have work to do." Bogrod told Harry, waving him away as he moved away to join his team in assessing the chambers damage.

Grunting in acknowledgement Harry quickly located his clothes and donned them.

"Oi Bogrod, I will need an escort outa here, otherwise I'll probably get gutted by one of the stupid guards in the hallways, after which I'll need to buy new clothes, as there'll be blood all over them, not to mention the holes from the punctures because all you goblins are so blade stabbing happy and-"

"Shut up Mr Potter, I get your point." Bogrod barked back, taking a steadying breath. "As your appointment was with me, I should be the one to escort you out, just go up the steps to my office and wait for me, I will be up to escort you out shortly."

Taking that as a dismissal Harry ascended the steps to the office above, his mind going over what he'd experienced just now.

'…What if my stabbing the ugly baby thing in the head into the ground in that weird empty chamber was what caused the goblins wacky song and dance to flop? What if whatever that was, was somehow linked to what just happened?'

Harry had only just sat down on the bane of his butts day (that chair was so uncomfortable) in the office when Bogrod showed up, sitting down at his desk, writing a few things down on a sheet of parchment he pulled from a desk draw.

"Before I escort you out Mr Potter, we must discuss the cost of services done today and charges for repairs." A sharks smile spreading on Bogrod's face as he spoke, making Harry groan in aggravation.

After ten minutes of Bogrod going over all the damages and the fees of services done today, the goblin curse breaker escorted Harry out of his office to the main foyer, Harry steaming over being charged so much money he barely paid attention to the twists and turns of Gringotts passageways.

'Damn greedy ass Goblins, I hope you choke on this gold after I've had this whole horcrux thing dealt with.'

"We will send you a summons when we are ready to try again, by which time we will have assumed you have purchased your wand." Bogrod said before leaving Harry in Gringotts main lobby.

Leaving the bank Harry made his way down the Alley till he found the shop that sold wands, if the sign that read 'makers of fine wands since 382 B.C.' was any sort of indication.

Entering the store Harry almost cringed at what he saw, thousands of tiny boxes piled upon each other all the way up to the ceiling, with wraith like, ghostly strings flinging wildly like a hand from a person that had just been struck blind.

He'd actually forgotten that he was channelling magic to his eyes.

'That's not creepy at all.' Harry thought, cutting the flow of magic he had going up to and through his eyes, it was just to help him see just a fraction better, as well as see spells that were cast around him, given what he'd just seen, he could go without that ability for a while.

With his eyes lacking the magic they previously had, the phantom strings faded from sight, giving Harry an unobstructed view of the tiny shop.

And it _was_ tiny, with only a single spindly chair in the corner with a thin layer of dust covering just about every surface in the shop.

As Harry looked about the shop, he began feeling with his magic in lieu of looking with his eyes, if one of these things was supposed to be for him it would have to match his magic pretty closely.

How hard could that be?

Absorbed as he was though, Harry didn't jump in surprise when an old man, obviously Ollivader, came to the front of the shop, sliding passed hundreds of boxes of wands on a ladder affixed to the packed shelves.

"I wondered when I'd be seeing-"

"Cut the small talk old man, I'm here for a wand, not to talk." Harry interjected making the older male frown, turning to face the man, his arms crossed.

"Yes, best we get onto it then, shall we?" Ollivander spoke before taking out a dozen or so boxes of wands from the shelves around him before depositing them on a random bench, withdrawing one and handing it over to Harry.

Grasping the wooden handle Harry felt his magic react, surging up and out, the wand rotting away within seconds.

"Oh dear…that there tells me this will be very tricky." Harry eyed Ollivander cautiously, these words sounding quite ominous. "But not to worry, there hasn't been a single person come into my shop that I was not able to match a wand to!"

"Given what you just saw, I'm not going to have to pay for the wands that my magic destroys, will I? While I have money I don't think I have quite enough to pay for everything that about to happen." Harry told the clerk carefully, just in case he had to make a quick exit.

"Not to worry Mr Potter, I have sold wands for a very long time, I am quite capable of repairing, or remaking wands that get damaged." Ollivander said dismissively whilst taking hold of another wand from a box and handing it to Harry, the salesman watching closely, his silvery specked eyes observing the wand closely.

Different from the first wand, this wand turned to ash, no theatrics at all, just poof.

'This is going to take a while…' griped Harry.

Fifteen minutes later and more than forty seven destroyed wands later Ollivander retreated into the depths of his shop, coming back with a single box in his thin bony hands. The wand maker seemed quite frazzled, it had never been this hard to match a wizard with a wand before.

"Try this one, I've narrowed the field quite a bit…I'm running out of options. This one, holly wood, eleven inches with phoenix feather core."

Taking hold of this wand Harry felt his magic heat up, his hand spewing white smoke after a few seconds as a haunting trill of what Harry assumed to be a bird of some type began to sound, the trill steadily got louder and louder as seconds ticked by.

After seven seconds holding the stick of holly, Harry's hand, the insides touching the wood, ignited for but a fraction of a second before a jet of water from Ollivander's own wand sprayed it and Harry, dousing the flames.

Dropping the wand onto the bench in front of him Harry spied Ollivander looking at the holly wand, almost forlorn.

'Hang on, is this guy seriously _that_ disappointed that he hasn't matched a wand to me yet? Or was is that wand in particular?' Harry thought as he identified the expression the old man was displaying as extreme disappointment.

"This wand is significant, isn't it?" the preteen queried. With a reaction like that, it had to be.

"Phoenix feathers are given to wand crafters sparingly, the phoenix that gave its feather for this one, gave a second… that feather was used as the core of the wand that killed your parents and gave you that infamous sc- where is it!?" Ollivander asked quickly, seeing for the first time through Harry's fringe, that the jagged cut on Harry's forehead that he was just talking about, was not ,in fact, there on Harry's forehead.

"Oh that? I had the goblin's at Gringotts cut it off my head, didn't seem to help any with the soul splinter that was supposed to be in it but it was worth a try." Harry replied, giving a shrug in a 'what can you do about it, meh' gesture.

"Cut it off…? Soul splinter…? What?!" Ollivander asked, near sputtering.

"When the goblins found out about this whole thing they told me I should really keep it secret, but seeing as I need a wand for them to actually get this bloody thing out of me I think I can tell you a few things… so here's the gist of it…"

And Harry articulated an abridged version of his undying life so far, Ollivander's eyes widening with horror at what he was hearing, for such tales should be just that, made up stories, and Harry was telling it as truth.

"Unbelievable…"

"Well if you need proof…" Harry took a random wand, one that he hadn't touched yet and removed his glasses. If his eyes could widen any more from shock Ollivander's eyes would have popped out as he watched, stupefied, as Harry Potter rammed a wand through his eye and into his brain.

And didn't drop dead.

"Proof enough for you, Mr Ollivander?" Harry asked jovially, as if there wasn't a wand sticking out of his head.

What surprised Harry the most, was that it _wasn't_ him shoving the wand into his eye and brain that made the old man pass out, it was the removing of the wand from his eye socket, the wand covered in brain matter that did the job.

Like what he'd just done was some kind of sacrilegious thing.

Harry set the wand on the bench and swiped his hand across the stick of wood, willing his magic to vanish the organic matter from the wand and everywhere else his bits of eyes and brain had managed to land.

Looking at the unconscious man on the floor in front of him Harry couldn't help but pout.

"I didn't even get to the part of the story where Vernon shocked me to death with the knife."

Ah well, Harry could always tell it to the old man the rest when he woke up.

* * *

AN:Oh no, Harry's not gonna get the holly wand as his first!?

What will Harry's wand be this time? I love reading the guesses, please send them!

Believe it or not, this was actually pretty hard to write, which was why it took so long to update.

If, when you read this chapter, you do see errors, please PM them rather than in a review.

And speaking of reviews, your thoughts are much appreciated


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